Everything
by XxxAnimaniacxxX
Summary: James doesn't get angry very often. But he has started to notice a pattern. For the Emotion Challenge!


**For the Emotion Challenge on the plot adoption forum! My emotion was anger. I also realised how long it's been since I watched the show as I struggled to remember events to include in this...anyway, enjoy!**

James doesn't get angry very often.

It's just not in his nature. Or it could be a result of his nurture. Honestly, he's not too sure. He doesn't have a particularly short temper. He's not like Carlos, who constantly has the potential to flip out like a child throwing a tantrum. James loves Carlos with all his heart, but his anger can't be compared to anything but that of a child. It's one of the things that make him so lovable. Kendall sometimes runs on a similarly short fuse; when he loses his temper, he _loses_ it. Not that it's frightening; it's upsetting if anything, to see him that way. But the anger is always clear in the clench of his jaw, the furrow of his brow. James feels like he's more like Logan. It's not that they don't panic, don't get stressed or upset about things. But angry? Not especially. Not outwardly. There's a clear difference.

He doesn't feel the heat of rage all that often, doesn't feel that urge to lash out and hurt, to scream and shout. He rarely sees red; he mostly sees the world in shades of pink and pastel blue.

But there are a few times in life, where James has seen red, where he has become angry. So angry he almost feels that he can't control himself, and that's frightening. Maybe that's part of why he doesn't feel angry very often. He's afraid of what it brings. He's seen his parents angry.

So maybe that's where the nurture part comes into play. His mother taught him not to be angry. Perhaps not that lesson specifically, but her teachings in keeping him silent and obedient had pretty clear connotations. _Don't be angry. Don't be loud. Don't stand up to me. Don't stand up for yourself. _His confidence in himself comes from self-love, from a touch of arrogance passed down from his mother. His brash behaviour comes from that confidence, and not from any form of anger, or any form of real strength. It's all false. It's all fake, like his mother's latest cheekbones.

The times James has been angry have been few and far between. Most of his life, he didn't really notice a pattern. But looking back, perhaps it had always been there.

**~oOo~**

He wasn't angry when his dad left them. Even when it was for a woman far below his age. His mother called it disgusting. She called it vile. And it was. James knew that at the time. He wasn't sure why he wasn't angry. He was upset with his father, but not angry. And he didn't know why. His father left when he was ten. He didn't stay in contact for very long; by the time James hit puberty and really could've done with a father to talk to, to ask about everything he was starting to feel, they hadn't talked in about a year. That should have made him angry. It almost did. But it didn't.

Six months after James' father packed his stuff and walked out the door, James walked to the Knights' house because he was supposed to be sleeping over while his mom was out of town for the night. As was often the case, only Mrs Knight's car was in the driveway. That was fine. Kendall's dad worked a lot, or that's what he'd been told. When he knocked on the door, Mrs Knight answered and looked almost like she'd forgotten he was coming. He realised later that she probably had. She gave him a smile, as she always did, offered him a snack, and sent him up to Kendall's room. But the whole act was quiet, slow, and different. It was weird.

When he walked into Kendall's room and saw him sitting holding his ratty old bear, he knew something was wrong. Kendall was one of those kids who pretended like he didn't need his bear, but still kept it at the foot of his bed, or on the bookshelf if someone he didn't know very well came over. James had never pretended any such thing. That was probably one of the reasons why other kids used to call him soft.

"What happened?" James asked him, crossing the room in an instant and crawling up onto the bed to meet Kendall.

Kendall looked up and his eyes looked different; something about them was too shiny, too red. He hugged the bear tighter in his skinny white arms. He turned his head down again and swallowed. His voice was hoarse and soft when he said, "Dad left." His lips clamped together, and a single tear rolled down his cheeks. And James realised then why his eyes looked so strange, why he'd never seen them like that before. Kendall hadn't cried since they were basically in diapers.

And James fucking saw red then.

He had a vision, of tracking down Mr Knight's car, chasing him down on his shiny new bicycle and doing . . . something. Slashing his tyres. Egging the windows. Scratching the doors. Even just yelling at him through a window all the profanities a ten-year-old could think of.

Who the hell did he think he was, making Kendall cry?

**~oOo~**

Anger isn't something to be ashamed of; not necessarily. But it's something James isn't proud of. He doesn't like it when he feels the urge to hit something, to scream and shout. It reminds him of his mother, and he hates that. He despises it. He doesn't want to be like either of his parents, and sometimes he thinks that's a shame. But there are tons of people out there who don't want to be like their parents; he'll never be alone there. And he's not the first person to be ashamed of them, either. He wishes he wasn't, but that's just the way it is. That's the way the cards were dealt to him. He can't have everything he wants or loves.

But he does have a lot. He has a lot of it now. There are people he loves and holds so dear, and he has them close to him. Closer than ever now.

Sometimes, he's afraid that his anger might cost him something he loves. Anger that stems from the insecurities he holds so tightly and deeply in his chest that nobody can ever see it. Occasionally, someone does see it. And when they drag it out of him, slowly and gentler, he doesn't feel anger anymore. It ebbs from an uncomfortable heat into a soft warmth, and he can confess the darkness that's inside him.

There are very few people who can bring out that side of him. He couldn't count them on one hand. But that's okay.

**~oOo~**

James saw red when they lost the band.

It was everything to him, being a singer. Performing on stage in front of thousands of people. Feeling like he was finally doing something he really loved, that he was made for. And it was all snatched away from them.

Looking back, it was no surprise that when Hawk came knocking, he took the offer. What else could he do? He couldn't stay in Minnesota. Not anymore.

As he worked with Hawk and the dream started to turn a little sour, he missed his friends more and more each day. He didn't like what they were turning him into. He didn't like the fake names, the fake lips. Why did people keep trying to turn him into his mother? Why did he feel like an imposter? It was lonely, isolating, depressing. He wanted the band back, but it all felt hopeless. He felt too hopeless to even feel angry anymore.

Until Hawk opened his fucking mouth and said, "None of them could sing anyway. Skinny, weedy nerds."

_What?_ James frowned.

"That dumb helmet. And the _nose_ on that other one. They were never handsome enough to be in a real boy band either."

And, well. James got pissed off when he said that. When he told an outright lie about the people who meant the world to him.

And he marched right back to Rocque Records. He wasn't about to work for somebody who stomped all over the people he loved. They were the most talented, most special people he'd ever met. How could he stand there idly and let that happen? He didn't punch Hawk; afterwards he kind of wished he'd had the guts to. He'd certainly wanted to. It was the first time in living memory that he'd wanted to hit someone; _really_ wanted to hit them. Play fighting with Carlos didn't count. There was no anger there, at least not on his part.

When he walked into the studio, he was terrified for a moment that they wouldn't take him back. He saw them dancing, joking, laughing, and couldn't help but open his mouth and start to sing. They looked and saw him then, and their reactions made his heart swell. Anger did get you somewhere good, once in a while.

**~oOo~**

Occasionally, James got angry with himself.

For being an idiot, mainly. He was an idiot sometimes. Sure, everyone was. Sometimes, it just resulted in silly things. That was usually what happened when Carlos did dumb things. They just had a new story to laugh about, to share on late nights huddled close together on the couch. But sometimes, when he did something stupid, he hurt people.

He knew he hurt his friends when he left them to work for Hawk, but it felt more justified then. He couldn't see himself doing anything else.

But things took a turn again, when Griffin bombarded them with video cameras and microphones and he and Carlos got too sharp a taste of what fame could do. Their play fighting turned into an act of theatre, and he didn't like to admit it, but it was a lot of fun. Phony and a little unpleasant, but the sleaziness had a certain thrill to it.

Until Kendall stormed in, trying to get the whole thing shut down, trying to (James was told later) protect his modesty, and James punched him in the face. He didn't even think about it then; it was just another fun part of the act. He didn't think Kendall would get upset.

But he did. He was really fucking upset, about the whole thing. About his body being on display for everyone to see, about the others not getting it, about James hitting him. He was upset about all of it. And when he got up off the ground where he'd fallen, it all showed in his face. He saw everything in his eyes, and he realised his mistake. Kendall walked off back into the Palmwoods, and didn't say another word.

Later, James felt an uncomfortable rage within himself as he tried to say sorry. He was angry at himself for being so fucking stupid. For _hurting_ Kendall, in more ways than one.

Kendall looked at him then, and his eyes were still heavy with darkness. "It's fine."

"It's not fine."

They sat close together, and James felt the anger cause his body to tremble uncontrollably. And suddenly he wanted to cry. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking stupid."

Then he felt a hand touch his bare shoulder, and it was as though it drew the heat from his body. He looked up and Kendall's eyes had changed. He almost didn't notice the hand move to brush against the side of his neck, to the back where it touched his hair.

"You're not stupid," Kendall said softly. And James realised how close they were, how it made him feel in his body and soul. "Don't say that. You're not."

James nodded, suddenly finding it difficult to speak. When he did at last, his hand rested on Kendall's knee. "We'll get that footage back."

Kendall nodded, and smiled. And James felt something stir inside him, as though he were finally coming to life.

His hand came up to touch Kendall's cheek, and he didn't pull away. He wasn't too mad at himself then; not if this was what it had brought him.

**~oOo~**

James has found himself becoming happier in recent years. He's found someone to hold close to him, to reassure him and be treasured by him in a way he never really experienced growing up. He finds himself whistling, singing to himself more than he ever did even when the band was still running. It did come to an end, but it was okay. It was their time to say goodbye; looking back now, he's glad they didn't force themselves to continue in a band when the spark had faded. Their friendship is still a whole wildfire, but not everything can last forever, and that's okay. He doesn't have Hollywood injustices to get upset about anymore, or, on the rare occasion, to get angry about.

But he does find himself getting angry sometimes. Not quite red levels. But it can get there.

He gets mad when Kendall gets down on himself, and tells him to find someone better. He's always portrayed an air of confidence, of self-assurance, but there are plenty of moments when his mask slips and James sees just how frightened he can get underneath it all. Ever since James' dad left, he's been determined to never turn into him, and to be a better person who learns from other's mistakes and his own. Ever since Kendall's dad left, he's been terrified of being abandoned. That much is clear in moments when Kendall mumbles that he's not worth it, and that they should stop, before things get too serious.

James gets pissed then, but he doesn't say so. He just clutches Kendall closer to him and feels the intense, magnetic tug that draws them together. And the anger dies down in his chest when he feels Kendall's breath against his neck and feels his hands clinging onto him just as tight.

He gets angry when Kendall thinks he's not enough, because he understands the darkness that comes from feeling that way. The thought of Kendall feeling that just makes him tense up. He's more than enough. He's always been more than enough.

**~oOo~**

"What are you thinking about?"

James lifts his head form where it had fallen back against the soft headboard. Slowly, his mind drifts back into the present, to the warm weight at his side. He blinks out of his daydream and looks down, hands running through soft blond hair almost on reflex. Kendall's head is rested against his hip, cheek pressed against his thigh. He's just woken up; James can tell by how his green eyes still swim with the remnants of whatever he'd been dreaming about. He hopes it was something wonderful. Kendall looks up at James, hand coming up to rest on his leg, eyes locked with his.

"Nothing, really," James says, fingers raking through Kendall's hair. "About you. About everything, really."

"Doesn't sound like nothing to me," Kendall says with a chuckle, shaking his head sleepily and shutting his eyes again. "You think too much."

"Well, I think that's the first time I've ever heard that," he replies with a matching chuckle. He shakes his head. It's true; his brains were never what drew people to him. Everyone has their own strength, and that's okay. He looks down at Kendall again, hand leaving his hair to brush his fingers against the soft skin of his cheek. Kendall hums and smiles and his eyelashes flutter, and James feels as though his heart might burst from his body, and his chest is swelled with red. Not anger. With something else. Something much stronger.

"I love you," he finds himself saying. He doesn't want it to be a huge deal. It shouldn't be. He doesn't want to draw too much attention to it, even if to him – it's everything.

Kendall's eyes open and flash a beautiful shade of green, and his cheeks flush dark. For a moment he says nothing, then shuts his eyes and says, "I love you too."

James bites his lip, thumb tracing its way down the sharp line of his jaw. "Really?"

"Really."

For a second, and it's completely stupid – James feels angry that it took this long for them to get to this point, when really, he always knew how he felt. But there's no point in being angry about the past. Not much point in getting angry about the present, either. Not now, when he feels so safe and warm and wonderful.

"Lie down with me," Kendall mumbles, lifting his head from James' hip and resting on the pillow. "It's late. Come on."

James lies down beside him, their bodies touching close, his arms coming tight around Kendall. And he's so in love, he thinks he might explode. And it's the most wonderful heat he's ever felt in his life.

"I love you," he says again, and it's everything.


End file.
